


A mortal's coil.

by Imagine_Darksiders



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Darksiders 3, Haven, If You Squint - Freeform, There's some Ulthane/Jones, death of a minor, human whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine_Darksiders/pseuds/Imagine_Darksiders
Summary: Anonymous ask prompt - 'jones and the makers trying to heal a sick human but despite their best efforts they slowly fade away and pass and both are just left kinda bitterly wondering why the creator made something so important to the balance so vulnerable.'





	A mortal's coil.

It was Jones who had come barrelling into the tree with a young human cradled limply in his arms at the very close of day, just as the incandescent sliver of a moon shyly poked its head out above the city’s skyline. The human’s entrance had been so abrupt and blusterous that it almost scared a trio of battle-hardened makers to death.

“Ulthane!” he’d called out, eyes landing on the dark, towering shape silhouetted against a row of burning candles that lined the far wall. In spite of Jone’s best efforts, the maker’s name caught in his throat and he had to swallow hard, leery of how much emotion had crept out and betrayed the alarm he’d neglected to conceal properly.

Set on immediate high alert, the aforementioned maker’s head whipped in their direction and his small, weary eyes squinted through the relatively dim firelight until they zeroed in upon the smaller of the two and he realised with a dreadful pang that Jones was carrying a youngling whose boyish face was screwed up in pain, trembling hands clamped tight over his abdomen. At a glance, it didn’t look as though he’d even reached his sixteenth winter.

Within the space of a minute, a bedroll had been laid out at the back of the tree and Jones lowered the boy onto it with the exaggerated slowness and care of a mother laying her sleeping baby down in its cot, fretful that one wrong move might cause it to stir. Had the situation not looked so dire, Ulthane would have remarked that he’d never seen the man behave quite so gently.

Ripping off his fingerless gloves, Jones wasted no time in rolling up the boy’s shirt.

There was a collective rush of air as everyone sucked in a breath through their clenched teeth at the sight laid out before them.

The young human yowled miserably as his clothing was peeled back to reveal a gaping laceration extending all the way from one side of his stomach to the other, blood cascading in a ceaseless torrent from the open wound.

Nobody had expected to see something quite so severe, and even Jones faltered, one hand outstretched to hover over the cut. Later, he would berate himself for freezing up. As an enforcer of the Charred Council’s will, he ought to have been _accustomed_ to seeing a bit of blood, for Creator’s sake.   
Right at that moment, a small, pale hand flew out to grab one of his and he glanced up from the cut to find the boy staring at him, eyes bulging wide open and pupils shrunk to tiny, black pinpricks.

The stench of terror mingled in with the metallic tang of fresh blood crept into each of the makers’ sensitive nostrils, spurring them to action.

Elanya disappeared for a while only to return carrying a wooden pail filled with rainwater which she handed to Ulthane and stood back, watching him kneel down beside the boy and slowly pour the water over his wound, cleaning it of dirt and grit. No sooner had the liquid touched his burning skin than he let out a cry and gawped fearfully up at the giant, attempting to squirm away but finding himself too weak to move further than an inch or two.

The boy’s grip on Jones’s hand grew even tighter, prompting the older human to shake off his stupor and crack a reassuring smile. “Hey, _hey_! Easy, kid,” he urged, “Don’t worry about Ulthane here, he’s one of the good guys.”

Whilst it didn’t seem to calm the boy down much, he _did_ drag his eyes away from the maker in favour of fixing Jones with a petrified stare. “Th-the monsters!” he choked, scrabbling frantically at the man’s overcoat until he had the lapels clenched firmly in his free hand, “They’re _everywhere_! They-”

“-Can’t get you in here,” Ulthane interjected gruffly. Although just to be on the safe side, he glanced up at Yarin and jerked his head discreetly towards the entrance. Understanding his unspoken request, the other maker nodded sharply and reached up to grab the enormous broadaxe from his back, hefting it into two hands before striding purposefully across the tree and out onto the plateau to stand guard.

Next, Ulthane caught the eye of the youngest maker among them. “Elanya, go n’ ask the other humans if they can find any fresh bandages.”

Quick as a flash, she gave him a hurried salute and began to clamber up the rickety, wooden ramp that lead to the humans’ living quarters but paused when she heard him softly add, “And… try to keep ‘em up there.” Ulthane gazed sombrely at the boy’s gaping wound. “Those two’ve seen enough bloodshed for a time.” 

“Aye.” Bobbing her head, the blonde maker lumbered off up the steps and disappeared from view.

So far, with the inclusion of Jones, this boy was the fourth human they’d brought to the tree and the other two were _still_ in a state of shock. The maker winced as he recalled how they reacted after he came in a few days ago sporting several deep cuts across his forearm that dripped blood all over the wooden floor… It was the first time he’d seen two humans go from conscious to unconscious in the span of a second.

With his directions dispensed, he cast his eyes back over the young human, grumbling disquietly and trying to determine the best course of action, though he was unable to help feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’s a warrior, not a healer, and he cursed himself to Oblivion for not paying closer attention to Muria’s teachings.

At that moment however, he couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on past mistakes, not whilst there was a youngling bleeding out all over the tree bark.

Urgency pounding through his veins, Ulthane glanced down at Jones, noting that the man had a palm pressed flat over the wound, but already it had grown bloody and sticky whilst his other hand was still held tight by the small human, who was apparently refusing to let it go.

Heaving out a low sigh, the maker shifted and used the tip of his forefinger to nudge Jones’s hand out of the way.

Startled, the human shot him a questioning glance but the moment he saw those giant fingers hovering just above the boy’s torso, he realised what the maker had planned. “Alright, big guy,” Jones nodded and laid his bloodied hand on the kid’s shoulder, less of a reassurance and more to keep him still for what was about to come, “Just don’t press _too_ hard, okay?”

Huffing, Ulthane made to place the pads of two fingers over the boy’s wound but the moment he did, the youngster gave a shrill whimper and tried to shuffle backwards, sputtering out, “N-No! Get away from me! _Stop_!”

Shoving down the sting that flared up at the thought of a youngling being afraid of him, the giant set his jaw. “Easy, lad. _Easy,_ ” he cooed, grimacing when it came out sounding more akin to a low growl instead, “Wound needs pressure.” Talking was wasting precious time, _and_ blood. So, steeling his heart against the boy’s terrified bleating, Ulthane pushed down onto his exposed stomach as heavily as he dared and within a second, his efforts were met by a tirade of agonised shrieks and a tiny fist that beat desperately against his knuckle, begging him to stop.

“ARGH! Wait, please!! You’re _hurting_ m-”

Like a shot, Jones gently but firmly pressed the kid down onto the bedroll, wincing at the fashion in which Ulthane’s ears had drooped to give the maker a painfully miserable appearance. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the giant took a lot more to heart than he let on.

With the human still fighting against his hold, Jones frowned and removed his orange hood as an idea sprung to him. ‘ _I gotta distract this kid_ ,’ he mused. It was all he could think to do until Elanya returned with bandages.

“Hey, look at me,” he suddenly barked, sharply enough that the boy’s wild eyes snapped around to stare at him. Once he had his attention, Jones smiled and continued, albeit far more softly, “What’s your name, son?”

Hiccoughing, the kid squeezed his eyes shut and several tears slipped between his lashes. “My – my name-” He was cut off by a gasp, body trying desperately to convulse around Ulthane’s fingers but after a second, he laid back and just managed to grind out,“- It’s uh, it’s Danny!”

“Danny, huh? S’good to meet you. Name’s Jones.” He pointed to himself before jerking a thumb at the maker. “And that’s Ulthane.”

The distraction seemed to be working as Danny’s eyes roved up the maker’s burly forearm, stopping to gawk at the pair of sharp tusks that protruded slightly above his bottom lip. Swallowing nervously, the boy leant nearer to Jones and whispered, “He’s…so-”

“-Big? Yeah, they feed them well where he comes from.” The older human chuckled but fell quiet after noting how Danny’s throat bobbed nervously. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Hey,” he continued, ducking his head to catch the boy’s eye, “don’t worry. He may _look_ like a mean, grumpy old bastard-”

Ulthane’s nostrils flared indignantly and he shot Jones a heated look, although the human – undeterred - merely bent close to Danny’s ear and whispered,   
“- but between you and me? He’s a big softie.”

At last, a smile - pained and tiny but a smile nonetheless - tugged plaintively at the boy’s pale lips, and any retort that Ulthane might have uttered died in his throat. He’d hoped it wasn’t that obvious.

Just then, the sound of heavy footfalls clattering over the wooden rope bridge broke the hushed silence and alerted them all to Elanya’s return. In a flurry of bouncing braids and clanking armour, the young maker came bounding down to their level, a roll of bandages clutched delicately between two fingers.

“I’ve got the stuff!” she exclaimed, skidding to a halt beside them.

Beneath Ulthane’s fingertips, Danny flinched and hummed uncertainly at her abrupt appearance, actions that didn’t go unnoticed by the surly giant. Tossing her a stern glare, he pulled his lips back over his teeth and growled, “Not so _loud_ , lass. You’re scarin’ him.”

Cowed by her elder’s scolding, she glanced at Danny, saw his frightened expression and immediately ducked her head. It wasn’t the first time she’d intimidated one of the humans with her energy alone. “S-sorry.”

Ulthane’s aggressive snarl died on his lips and he had to remind himself that she was new to this. They were _all_ new to this. He could practically hear his brother’s words echo in his eardrum, ’ _Cut ‘er some slack. You were young once too.’_

Luckily, as seemed to be the usual case with Elanya, she didn’t stay admonished for long. Her ears perked up just seconds later and she tossed the bandages down to an impatient Jones. “Oh! Sam and Ollie found these, by the way.”

Hastily, the human inspected the wrappings and was glad to find that they’d been kept entirely clean - not a speck of dirt or grime on them. “These look good.” He nodded approvingly. “Tell ‘em ‘thanks,’ will you?”

Although he hadn’t meant for her to do so at that exact second, Elanya threw him a sloppy salute, turned and made her way back up the stairs and over the rickety bridges before disappearing once more into the humans’ living quarters.

Ulthane watched her go, shaking his head fondly once she was out of sight. Ever since they brought their first two humans in a few days ago, she’d looked for any excuse to spend time around them, apparently just as intrigued with the little species as they were with her.

Gradually, the gentle tilt of his lips slowly receded and the maker found his gaze slipping down to look at the boy who lay beneath his fingers.

“Okay, kid. This is gonna hurt,” Jones warned as he began unravelling the bandages, “Ulthane?”

Grim-faced, the giant pricked his ears up at the sound of his name. “Mmm?”

“I need you to sit him up. _Carefully_.”

Only hesitating for a second, Ulthane nodded and reached a colossal hand behind the prone human, gently working his fingers underneath a back that could break at just the barest hint of pressure.   
Such a thought didn’t help to settle the old one’s already fraught nerves.

Packing any worries away for the time being, he grit his teeth and slowly tilted Danny off the bedroll until he was at least partially upright so that Jones could wrap bandages all the way around his torso unhindered.

Of course, as soon as the maker shifted him, Danny let out a strangled cry, his eyes snapping open wide and a river of fresh blood spurted from the wound in his stomach. They all stared down in horror and there were several seconds where nobody knew quite what to do. Through tear-streaked vision, Danny began to shiver with a violence borne not only of fear, but of hurt as well. “M-Mr Jones?” he breathed, sounding so small and frightened in that instance, both the older human and maker felt the stirrings of a long-buried instinct surge forth, so strange yet so familiar, it felt like the sudden recollection of a distant memory. “ _Am I gonna die_?”

If Ulthane’s fingers curled just a bit tighter around the trembling human, nobody seemed to take much notice. “No, _no_ little’un,” the maker’s low voice rumbled through the humans like a faraway roll of thunder, deep enough that they could both feel it in their chests. “We’ll not be lettin’ that happen.”   
Tearing his gaze from his own stomach, Danny looked up into the giant’s face, saw the conviction in his pale blue eyes and found that he trusted his words. Ulthane, for his part, saw the boy’s trust and was struck by a sensation akin to someone shoving a red-hot poker through his chest. There was _nothing_ the maker could do, from that point going forward, that would make him worthy of a human’s trust.

Meanwhile, all too aware of the precious seconds ticking by, Jones bent down and set about winding bandages around the boy’s midsection in a determined endeavour to staunch the bleeding. He was sure that humans had _far_ more efficient ways of healing a wound like Danny’s, but in the midst of a world-wide apocalypse that raged just outside the confines of their gigantic, leafy haven, they couldn’t exactly afford to be picky. Jones’s sloppy handiwork would just have to suffice. As he worked, he could see the boy flinch and grimace, jaw trembling with the strain of keeping his lips pressed firmly together, probably in the hopes of silencing any agonised cries that might burst out.

“Say…” Jones piped up as he wound another layer over the previous and wracked his brains for a question that might take the boy’s mind off his pain, if only momentarily. “How old are you, Danny?”

It took a long time before the lad opened his eyes, took a breath and replied weakly, “M'gonna be…fi-fifteen next month.”

The already dreary atmosphere in the tree plummeted like a lead weight.

Jones caught Ulthane’s eyebrows knitting tightly across his forehead until they almost met in the centre and he had to admit, he shared the old one’s disquiet. ’ _Too young!_ ’ their collective minds bellowed in unison. They knew just by looking at him that he’d be young, but having a definite age seemed to drive the truth home. They really _were_ dealing with a child. 

“Now just how in the Hell does a kid _your_ age survive four days straight in a city full of demons?” Jones asked, mouth agape, “When I found you, you were on your _own_!” He finally finished binding Danny’s torso by tying the frayed bandage ends together before leaning back to inspect his work.

The young human opened his mouth as if to speak but then he suddenly clamped it shut again, only this time, it seemed reluctance held his tongue rather than pain.

One of Ulthane’s fingers twitched against the boy’s shoulder, a gentle coax.

“…I…I ran away from home,” he admitted at last, “…been living rough in the city for a…a couple of months, I think.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, eyes glazed over with fresh tears and he stared past Jones and Ulthane to the ceiling above. “I learned all the best hiding spots - _had_ to. S’a lot of mean folks out there. When the - _argh_!-” A blinding rush of pain seized him from head to toe, locking his limbs in place. The elder two could do nothing but watch helplessly until he came back into himself, but as he did, they noticed how much frailer he sounded. “When the monsters came….I tucked myself away in a hole. And didn’t come out til today.” Here, he turned his head to regard Jones from underneath heavy lids. “S’when _you_ found me…I was out looking for food n’ a monster got me.” 

“I’m…sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.” The apology felt so hollow and lacking. A nagging voice tickled at the back of Jones’s head, told him that if he hadn’t been so concerned with keeping up his disguise, he could have killed the demon before it got to the boy.

Jones hadn’t been able to reach Danny in time.

 _Strife_ could have.

“No, s’okay.” The boy trailed off into a yawn as Ulthane gently eased him back onto the bedroll. “Wasn’t your fault, man….wasn’t _anyone’s_ fault.” 

Somehow, the guilt kept itself firmly adhered to Jones’s heart.

Drawing his hand away slowly so as not to startle Danny, Ulthane eyed the human sitting beside his ankle and furrowed his brow, half concerned that he’d seen the same hangdog expression spread across Jones’s features before, in the reflection of passing windows. It was more than a shame to see such a look detracting from the man’s handsome face. Exhaling hotly through his nostrils, Ulthane resolved that he’d have to have a talk with him and recapitulate Danny’s words; It wasn’t Jones’s fault the lad had gotten hurt. 

He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring until the object of his attention cleared his throat and tapped one, minuscule finger on the maker’s knuckle. “Hey, you still with us, big man?”

All at once, Ulthane gave a start, snatching his head away and nodding hastily. “A-aye, just thinkin’…”

“About what?” 

Curse this human and his curiosity. He scanned over Danny’s meagre frame and, thinking quickly, replied, “We ought’a find this wee one some food.”

“M’not hungry,” came the tinny objection. 

Skeptical, Ulthane opened his mouth to argue back but the boy jerked under the force of an abrupt, hacking cough that went on for several, painful moments until he slumped back onto the bedroll again. Then, eyes closed against the firelight, he muttered, “Think I might throw up if I tried to eat anything right now…”

Perhaps if either Jones or the maker had been human, they’d have recognised _why_ this was such a bad sign and tried to get him to eat something anyway. Perhaps if there had been a torch burning closer to the boy, they would have had enough light to see how all the colour had drained from his face and neck.

Perhaps if they had been human, when Danny complained of being cold, they’d have done more than simply cover him with Ulthane’s thick, blue scarf.

Utterly spent, the young human clung to the soft material and dropped his head back against the bedroll in the hopes of drifting off to sleep whilst Jones kept watch by his side and Ulthane leaned himself up on the tree trunk, retrieved a small, amaranthine rune from one of his numerous pockets and began to tinker away at it in companionable silence, occasionally lifting a hand to scratch self-consciously at the long, pale scar on his neck that used to be hidden by his scarf.

Eventually however, the boy’s stillness began to unsettle them. His chest barely moved with each, scant breath and he’d fallen completely quiet, uttering neither a word nor whimper to give them an indication that he was conscious.

“If you don’t mind me askin’ lad,” the maker abruptly rumbled after the heavy blanket of silence grew too loud to bear, “Why’d you run away from home?

For a worrying moment, Danny didn’t stir, he didn’t even open his eyes or mouth to reply. Jones and Ulthane’s gazes locked and for a split second, they can clearly see an unanticipated flash of concern in the other’s expression.

Before all hell could break loose though, the boy took in a long, wheezing breath and slowly, his eyes peeled open and drifted up, first to the maker and then to the human hovering over him. “…It was stupid..” he slurred quietly, “Jus’a stupid fight with mum, over _nothing_ …. I said some bad things, _real_ bad things. Wish it never happened now, course. F’I could take it back-” Danny was cut off when his breath hitched violently and the cheeks that had finally dried began to glisten again, wet with tears. It was torturous for an onlooker, seeing him try and raise his hands off the bedroll, probably in an attempt to wipe his eyes dry only to give up after it proved too difficult, so he let them fall to his sides once more and rolled his heavy head towards the tree bark behind him, as if suddenly ashamed to meet the gazes of his newfound protectors. Shoulders jerking up and down with muffled, heaving sobs, he keened, “-And now I - I’m never gonna get to apologize to her!”

Danny’s outburst seemed to sap the last remaining shreds of strength from his bones and he stills, apparently too exhausted to even bother taking in another breath. Having been covered up by the scarf, nobody saw the red stain darken his bandages. “Is she okay?” he implores, too far from coherency to address either Ulthane or Jones. Instead, his solemn question seems to be meant for a higher power than they. “Did she make it?”

However, it seemed nobody else was going to answer the boy’s sad plea, so, in lieu of a better idea and sick of bearing witness to the suffering of those who did nothing at all to deserve it, Jones decided to provide an answer the Creator apparently wouldn’t.

“I’m sure she made it, kid.”

There was a long minute of silence again, so long that Jones almost repeated himself. But then, the tiniest shift from the bedroll and Danny’s head twitched to one side. “How do you know?” he croaked, his voice neither skeptical, nor angry.

It was begging - just a boy pleading to be lied to.

For the briefest instance, Jones found himself wishing he’d been born a human, if only because a human might know better how to comfort one of their own young. And although he was perhaps the _only_ nephilim to have ever bothered with the little species at all, he still hadn’t quite mastered their unique ability to empathise. Still, for the sake of an unfamiliar child he’d only recently pulled from the jaws of death, he was willing to give it his best shot. “Because.. well, _you_ made it, didn’t you?” he tried, silently willing the boy to turn and face him so he could see if his weak attempt was paying off. “And I’m betting if she’s anything like her kid, she’s gonna be just fine.”

Uncertain, he glanced at the maker, who made a quick shooing motion with his meaty hands as if to say, _‘keep doing what you’re doing_.’ 

“Hell, you never know -”The lie was impossibly glaring, like a beacon upon his face. “- She could come waltzing in here tomorrow looking for you!”

Danny drew in a rasping inhale. It sounded oddly wet to their ears - wet and gurgling, like he had too much saliva at the back of his throat. Still, he managed to wheeze out, “ _Yeah_?”

“…Yeah.”

Exceeding far too much effort for such a small act, the boy craned his head all the around over a shoulder to observe his fellow human. For a few, illuminating seconds, it seemed a light bloomed behind Danny’s eyes - small and feeble - but a light all the same. ‘ _Hope_.’ Jones’s smile turned softer. If anything, he was glad he could at least give the boy _that_.

Adamantine rune all but forgotten, the maker grunted as he peeled himself off the tree trunk, stretched forwards and bumped the back of his forefinger into Jones’s side. After receiving a raised brow from the human, he pointed insistently at the humans’ makeshift sleeping chambers, saying with an air of authority, “S’almost dawn, Lad. Best you go n’ get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on the boy…”

Jones glanced at Danny. He’d struggled onto his back to stare at the arched, wooden ceiling overhead, his eyes open a fraction and tiny little breaths whistling past his lips. Jones noted that he looked much calmer than he had when he first came in. And _tired_ \- tired like a kid who’d been kicked into the dirt one too many times and just can’t find it in himself to get up anymore. “Nice try, Goliath,” the older human sighed, grinning humourlessly as he turned back to his stoic companion, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Ulthane would have pushed the matter, had he not known it would be pointless. Slowly but surely, he was coming to learn how bullheaded a lot of humans could be. _‘A little like makers,_ ’ he considered with a wistful smile, watching Jones get to his feet and plod languidly over to where he sat, showing a complete irreverence to the lack of space between them when he chose to park himself directly at Ulthane’s ankle. The maker, however, wasn’t in the least bit fazed either, and he let out a low grunt, settling back against the tree trunk with his arms folded behind his head.

Neither of the two spoke for a better part of an hour, and neither was aware of the other frantically trying to _think_ of something to say. Conversation just seemed a little tasteless after Danny’s eyes eventually closed and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

They should have filled the silence. It rang in their ears and wormed its way through their heads, painfully noticeable in its unobtrusiveness. And when Danny suddenly peeled his bloodshot eyes open again and pinned the two under a haunting, soul-stirring stare, the words he uttered may as well have been the boom of a cannon for how utterly and loudly they filled the tree. “ _I want my mum_ ,” he whimpered, bottom lip trembling. Then, before they could respond, his eyes rolled back towards the ceiling and slipped shut without any further ceremony.

Danny passed away just before the first sun rays crested over the city skyline.

Jones remained at Ulthane’s boot, and the maker kept perfectly still too, as though held in place by some awful spell.

They were too old to realise they could still suffer from shock anymore.

Both kept their gazes locked on the tiny human before them. Both felt the gut-wrenching nausea that can always be experienced alongside guilt. Both blamed themselves. But neither moved.

“What now?” Ulthane at last mumbled through his lips, hoping it was quiet enough that Jones hadn’t caught the break in his voice, “What in the world do we do now, Lad?”

The spell now broken, Jones could offer was a defeated shrug. “I don’t know,” he uttered just as softly.

“What do humans….. usually _do…._ with your dead?” 

Jones almost scoffed - as if _he_ was an authority on the matter. Then he remembered that he _was_ , as far as Ulthane was aware. It took him a moment or two to quietly deliberate on how humans _do_ deal with their deceased before, shaking his head, he offered his palms to the ceiling, helpless. “We bury ‘em… I guess.”

Another minute passed.

“Right.” The maker planted his hands firmly on the ground and heaved his impressive bulk up onto his feet. “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do.” Once upright, he glanced down at Jones, finding the human still transfixed on the body.

“You know, it only hit him once.” 

Ulthane blinked. “Eh?”

“The demon. It only got _one_ hit on him.” Jones hooked a forefinger and dragged it deliberately across his stomach, blowing a whoosh from his lips. “Just like that. One hit, and it’s enough to kill a human.”   
No mask in the world could have hidden the remorse that played across   
his face in that moment.

The maker spotted it and a resonant hum reverberated from somewhere deep within his chest. “Weren’t your fault, son.”

“No?” Jones laughed bitterly and finally clambered to his feet where, sharp as a whip, he snapped his head in Ulthane’s direction and sneered, “Well, you’d better start givin’ me someone _else_ to blame. Cause I’ve _tried_ blaming the demon who did this, believe me, I have. And you know what?” And in the same manner a switch would be flipped, the bite went out of his tone and he sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just can’t help thinking; it’s not the _demon’s_ fault humans were made so fragile.”

“Not _your_ fault either,” Ulthane reiterated, pinning his ears back for good measure. 

Hesitating, Jones squinted, apparently struck by a sudden thought. Another second passed before his eyes found Danny again and he softly asked, “Do you believe in the Creator?”

The question took his gigantic companion off guard. He didn’t even register the human’s use of the term ‘ _Creator,’_ where ’ _God_ ’ would have been more in keeping with the native tongue. “Aye, The Creator was real enough, at one point,” he uttered eventually, although his tone became bitter when he added, “Not been heard from in a couple of millennia though…Why d’you ask?”

Giving a derisory snort, Jones replied, “Oh, no reason. Just feel like He could have done _more_ , you know?” He indicated the corpse. “Could’ve given ‘em a fighting chance. Maybe if humans were built to survive even just _two_ blows from a demon. O-Or if they hadn’t been left - _alone_ \- to fend for themselves on this _stupid_ , _**goddamn**_ rock!-” Pausing to run a hand through his dark, neatly cropped hair, he clicked his teeth together, biting down on the urge to launch into a tirade about how _furious_ he was with the Creator. In the end, all he could spit out was, “Guess I know who I wanna blame now. Big man upstairs, doesn’t give a shit about the little guys…”

As the human’s snarl trailed off, Ulthane managed to avoid Jones’s eye by stepping towards the body, kneeling down and carefully extracting Danny from his scarf. What he wouldn’t _give_ to be able to use the Creator as a scapegoat. Why, he could blame a higher power until he was blue in the face, but deep down, he knew - he _knew_ that the buck had to stop with someone, and in the maker’s eyes, that someone was him. If he’d just said ‘ _no_ ,’ if he’d just _refused_ to forge that damnable blade, they might not even be in this mess. 

Humanity may have been the Creator’s magnum opus, but did that render Him solely responsible for every last little thing that happened to them, be it good or bad? The Blackhammer would never profess to know an answer to that particular question. It was too far above his station.

Still….a part of him couldn’t help adhering to Jones’s contempt. Ulthane has made a _lot_ of things in his long life, but he knows that if he ever created a species that was supposedly so integral to the balance, he wouldn’t have made them so!-

The giant’s troubled eyes shifted over to where Danny still lay, cold and lifeless on the ground.

-…so breakable.

——————-

It was no wonder to anyone why, following that day, Ulthane became unreasonably solicitous to the point that he was borderline smothering.

The new humans who came into Haven were all warned by the old _not_ to leave the tree without another maker or Ulthane’s _express_ permission. Primarily because the scolding and tirade that would inevitably follow simply wasn’t worth getting a little exercise outside.


End file.
